


Settle Down

by Neffectual



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't quite feel at home with the Christmas rituals. Roman and Seth help him settle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Settle Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [D0uble0hD0nut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D0uble0hD0nut/gifts).



Seth is a perfectionist – they both know it, because why else would he spend hours in the gym on a body that was already all kinds of beautiful – and the holiday season brings it out in him as bad as it could possibly be. It’s the 14th of December, and Dean’s already planning to do terrible things to the one Christmas cd in the house, if Seth puts it on one more time, or so much as dares to hum ‘Silent Night’.

 It’s not that Dean doesn’t understand why Seth likes the holidays, it’s just that he doesn’t have his own connection to it, and between Seth the perfect housewife and Roman wrapping presents and getting ready for snow, it feels a little like being cut loose. He doesn’t have any traditions, aside from being as drunk as he can be for the most of the day, avoiding the radio, and not thinking about what everyone else must be doing with their perfect little families. And not listening to the sound of breaking glass and screaming from downstairs, but that’s not an issue anymore. He still listens for it, though.

“Cheer up, grumpy gills.” Roman teases as he goes past, Dean knowing his face must look pensive, stuck in thoughts of the past, “Gonna get the tree out the loft, got my orders. Wanna help me decorate it?”

Dean shakes his head, no, because Seth will have some sort of system, and he’ll just fuck it up like he does all the other systems Seth has in the house, like which drawer is for shirts and which one is for pants in the dresser, or the right shelf meat goes on in the refrigerator. Something like that. Times like this, he’s painfully reminded that Seth and Roman were a thing for a year before he came along, and that Roman knows the way Seth wants things done. Dean, on the other hand, just seems to keep getting in the way.

The one thing he’s done right is he’s got the presents bought, in gift bags because he doesn’t want to fuck up the wrapping, and hidden away in the garage where no one else bothers to go. Hell, he might just spend the whole day out there, give Ro and Seth their little picture perfect Christmas, keep out of the way. He’d do it, too, if he didn’t know it would make Roman give him the disappointed face, and break Seth’s heart. He’s pathetically weak to what both of them want from him.

 

Dean doesn’t go in the kitchen much, in general, except to carry whatever weird healthy bullshit Seth is feeding them, or to sneak his third beer of the evening and hope Seth’s sharp little ears don’t catch him. Roman does the cooking, Seth does occasion food and baking, and Dean sometimes manages to open a bottle without spilling it all over the floor. Just another way he doesn’t belong in the damn house, and Seth will not stop with the fucking Christmas music, either. There’s tinsel everywhere, shedding on the carpet, Kevin coated in sparkles because he’s a daft little animal, but he’s also the only one up at 2am, when Dean sneaks out of their bed and comes to sit downstairs.

He plugs the Christmas lights in, and just sits for a little while, staring at the living room lit with a golden glow, tiny dog on his lap, and watches the way the lights reflect off the ceiling. Everything in the house screams Seth, from the cream carpets to the way the tree is only white lights, only gold and silver, and the couch is positioned at just the right angle to make the room look bigger. It’s not just Seth, though, there are traces of Roman everywhere; in the rustic-looking coffee table, the warm red-orange rag rug on the floor, even the framed pictures are still mostly Roman and Seth, the one professional picture they have of the three of them on a side table, laid flat, waiting to be put up when Roman gets around to it. Dean hates the thing, hates how fake it all looks, hates how Roman and Seth are smiling and he just looks like he doesn’t belong. He guesses maybe that bit isn’t so fake after all.

Without thinking about it, he’s at the front door, his keys in his hand, wallet in his pocket, and he knows his cell is upstairs on the charging port in the bedroom, but – he won’t need it, when he goes, he won’t need to talk to anyone. No one’s going to chase after him into the dark night, no one’s going to notice that he isn’t there in the morning, Seth and Roman will just be glad to have more space in their life, more time together, more –

“Dean?” Seth’s voice, low and quiet, and if it was Roman, Dean would let him find him like this, halfway out of the door, shoes on, ready, but Seth – he can’t do that to Seth. He shrugs his jacket off, and toes off his shoes silently, before moving to the bottom of the stairs.

“Kev wanted out.” He explains, with a small smile, and Seth’s face melts from – was that panic? – to sleepy affection as he climbs the steps, and gets a kiss to his cheek for his trouble, Seth’s hands leading him back to the bed where Roman is a snoring lump under the covers, “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“I always wake up when you’re not here.” Seth says, near-silently, pulling his jeans off him and leaving him in a t-shirt and boxers. Dean wonders how many nights he’s spent lying on the couch, thinking of leaving, with Seth up here, hand on the empty space in the bed, listening for the sound of the front door shutting behind him.

He’ll leave, soon, he will. But right now, Roman at his back and Seth curled against him, chin tucked in against Dean’s chest, and looking up at him with big, adoring eyes, he tells himself one more night won’t hurt.

 

In the morning, he’s alone in the bed, like always, two habitual early risers always leaving him cold. There’s a text on his phone saying Seth’s gone shopping, and Roman’s downstairs, ostensibly doing something for Christmas dinner, or some sort of baking prep. In reality, Dean can hear easy listening music, and reckons Roman’s probably reading the paper like an old man. He heaves himself out of bed and decides clothes aren’t worth the effort, stumbling down in the boxers and t-shirt from last night.

“Coffee.” He slurs at the Roman-shaped blob in the kitchen, and gets handed a mug of steaming goodness, “Love you.”

“Seth said you were at the door again last night.” Roman says, and Dean pauses with the mug halfway to his lips. So. They’ve noticed.

“Just taking Kev out.” Dean tries, but Roman’s shaking his head, and he know he’s caught, “Look, you’d be better off without me, okay? This fucking Christmas, this everything, the house – I don’t fit. I’m not meant to be here.”

He wants to reach for anger, but anger’s easy with Seth, who fires straight back at him, and hard with Roman, who just looks so disappointed and upset.

“Please don’t walk out of our lives.” Roman says, quietly, almost lost in the sound of someone on the radio begging their lover to come home, “We can’t do this without you. We wouldn’t want to, even if we could. We love you, and you keep saying it, but I don’t know if you mean it anymore.”

Dean wants to be angry about that, wants to lash out, wants to leave, wants to run away from everything he’s feeling and pretend he’s not having this conversation, because he loves them so fucking much. That’s why he knows they deserve better.

“I do. Love you, I mean. It’s just… holidays.”

“I get it,” Roman says, but he doesn’t really, can’t possibly, with his hundred or so cousins and huge family who all celebrate together, “Holidays are really hard.”

“Like my dick.” Dean says, trying to ease the tension, and startles a laugh out of Roman.

“Come to bed earlier, maybe we’ll see if we can do something about that.” He says, and Dean curls into the warmth of his body, coffee paling in comparison, although he still slurps at it messily.

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?” Dean asks, when the coffee’s gone and Roman’s still wrapped around him, chin on his shoulder.

“Scared, maybe. We should’ve thought more about how fucked up Christmas is for you, or asked what you wanted to do.”

“Drink beer, get laid.” Dean deflects, because he has no idea what the hell normal people do on Christmas – but then, they’re not normal, are they? There’s three of them, for a start, and none of them is exactly typical, “Just be a part of whatever traditions you already have.”

“One year isn’t exactly a tradition.” Roman mutters, and Dean thinks he’s right. One year isn’t a tradition, and maybe they aren’t getting things exactly right, but they can try harder next year. Next year, when he’s still here, because he doesn’t want to let go of the best people he’s ever known.

“Bet Seth’s got ideas, though.” He says, with a grin, so Roman knows he’s not entirely serious, “A whole list of things for the perfect Christmas with your poly boyfriends.”

Roman unfolds a piece of paper and hands it to him, face deadpan.

“Want to try your hand at some of these?”

Dean looks at the list of boring chores to do, and then something catches his eye.

 

Seth comes home to a kitchen like a warzone, flour everywhere, the smell of burning gingerbread high in the air and Dean against the counter, laughing as Roman licks frosting off his nose. Dean hasn’t looked this carefree since March, when they asked him to join them, and Seth takes a second to drop the bags of groceries on the floor before he’s stepping closer, Roman reeling him in with one big arm and pressing him against Dean. He nuzzles the scruff of an unshaven cheek, then licks at the frosting he finds under Dean’s chin.

“I take it you two decided the vacuuming was too easy?” he asks, before dipping his head back down to suck a bruise into Dean’s throat. Dean has a hand in his hair like he doesn’t know whether to push him closer or pull him away, and Seth wants to cry with how good it feels to have the three of them like this. It’s been three weeks since Dean wanted to join them in the bedroom, and Seth feels like a shit that it took him this long to notice, to put together Dean’s late night leaving and how he’s been avoiding sex, like he doesn’t deserve to even watch.

“Wanted to make it easier on you.” Roman purrs next to his ear, and Seth looks past Dean, gloriously smug and happy, to a lopsided little gingerbread house on the counter. The edges are singed, the roof is falling in, and clearly the decoration is mostly on Dean, although there are smudges of it on Roman’s face, too, where they’ve been kissing, “Think we just ended up making a mess.”

Dean’s face falls, and Seth wants to back away, wants to leave, because he’s clearly the one upsetting Dean, clearly not someone he wants to be with.

“Sorry, we... made a mess, I’ll – I’ll get it tidied up.” Dean moves to pull away from him, and Seth’s grip loosens, “Should’ve just done the chores like you wanted.”

Seth’s heart breaks. Sure, he’s been stressed about keeping the house clean for Christmas, and he’s been pushing this perfect Christmas, the way he wants everything to work, but he didn’t realise it was messing with Dean this much. Roman’s giving him a meaningful look, but Seth can’t, can’t go to Dean, can’t be what he needs.

“I don’t think we did too much damage.” Roman tries, but Dean’s already shaking his head, face shut down, “The house isn’t – “

Dean slams his hand onto the little building, cracking the roof and making the whole thing tumble down, and Seth can’t take it anymore.

“Why do you want to break everything?” is what comes out of his mouth, and he thanks his lucky stars he didn’t call Dean ‘broken’, “What’s so wrong with everything that you have to tear it apart?”

“Sorry we can’t all be perfect, and have perfect plans and perfect ideas, and be good at everything, but some of us don’t work like that.” Dean hisses back, and Seth feels that, down to his core. He knows he tries too hard, knows that he’s pushy, and demanding, and expects the best from everyone, but he never really thought what that was doing to anyone else. Roman’s easy-going, he just gets on with it and accepts the half-hearted praise as his lot, but Dean needs reminding he’s worth more than a few scraps of words.

“We can fix the house,” Roman tries, and they both turn to look at him, lifting the broken pieces of the roof panels, trying to fit them back together, and watching the edges crumble, “We can fix this, I know we can, we can – “ He trails off, and Seth sees his eyes squeeze together, teeth biting at his lip, like he wants to cry, but won’t.

He did this. Dean and Roman were fine before he walked into the kitchen, with all his expectations and high standards, and the way he makes Dean feel, the way he makes Roman work for every scrap of affection and he just does it silently. Seth wonders why his face feels hot, why there’s wetness dripping down his cheeks, before he notices Dean staring at him in horror.

“I didn’t mean, I – “ Dean licks his lips nervously, and Seth wishes he could say something, wishes he wasn’t struck dumb by just how much he’s ruining everything, “We can – maybe we just write that one off.”

Roman drops the pieces of the gingerbread house to the baking sheet with a clang, like a final slam of a door, and Seth’s shaking his head before Dean can start talking again.

“We’ll make a new one.” He says, and lets them both look at him for a moment, “Together.”

 

Roman didn’t expect to enjoy baking, for all he’s the one who normally cooks. Seth does the occasion stuff, the pastries, the cakes, anything more complicated than pie gets handed over to his technical expertise and perfectionism. This is different, with all three of them, Dean’s hands in the mixing bowl and Seth not even bothering to hand him a spoon, just laughing and digging his hands in, too, wiping gingerbread dough down Dean’s nose and licking it off. Roman tries not to feel isolated until Dean pulls him closer and kisses him, all spice and sweetness, and home.

The sides aren’t measured with a ruler, the way Seth wants, and Roman gets to shape the squares himself, hands steady and loving to be working on something, Seth behind him and not criticising, just nuzzling against him like he wants those hands on him instead.

“We doing this right?” Dean asks, and looks at Seth, who stiffens against Roman’s back. He holds his breath for a second, hands still, before Seth relaxes again.

“It’s us. It’ll be right enough.” He says, and Roman can start to breathe again, Dean’s face lighting up.

When the trays go in the oven, Roman goes to start cleaning up the mess, but he’s held and kissed hard, Seth so close, like he’s trying to say a thousand things without words, and Roman feels each and every one of them. Dean’s warmth behind him is grounding, and for once, being in the middle doesn’t feel like ending a fight or stopping the next one from happening, doesn’t feel like needing to be silent instead of speaking. It just feels right, like he’s supposed to be here, like he’s wanted and necessary, held close and tightly.

When they build the house, they’re messy, hands in the way of each other, Seth trying to teach Dean to use a piping bag effectively enough that he pipes tiny dicks onto the roof, and Seth just laughs and kisses him, piping bag forgotten until Roman’s wearing half the frosting, and Dean’s sliding a sticky hand into his hair to kiss him, all warmth and light. At the end, there’s something lopsided, slightly pornographic, and a little underdone – but it’s them, and it’s right, and Seth’s hand is on his hip like he can’t keep away, Dean curving closer.

As they head up to the bedroom, Dean leading them there for the first time in weeks, Roman takes a second to look at the little house on the counter, listing slightly sideways, all golden and imperfect. Yeah. Anything worth doing is worth doing together.


End file.
